


Demon and Leviathan

by carcinosgeneticist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Demon Dean, Demon Sam Winchester, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, Hurt/Comfort, Knight of Hell Dean Winchester, Leviathan Castiel, Leviathans, Love, M/M, Punishment, Slavery, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 14:34:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8804626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carcinosgeneticist/pseuds/carcinosgeneticist
Summary: Castiel is a leviathan that is dragged to hell against his will. He is faced with the king of hell, Dean Winchester. With this newfound relationship. Castiel begins to realize he can gain power from his new position, but finds himself infatuated with his captor as well.





	1. Blood and Bones

Thick black goo flowed through his veins, soaked his lungs and set fire to his limbs, like a desperation to conquer, to kill, to eat. Leviathan, that is what they called him, plucked from the plate of rare, ferocious creatures in the darkness, and tamed to be how he appeared now. He had been dragged from the streets to a castle of bones and blood, and he could feel the rancor of the screams deep within his rotten body as he was lead through the door.   
He was cast into the dark of a room, one which he could not hear the deafening wooden creaks of the castle from within, a room that had silk bed sheets, soft like sea water on a bed that was bigger than two king sized mattresses together. It was all confusing for a monster, hungry and in no mood for games, almost delusional with the need for something live and warm to stuff down his gullet. He prowled like a cat, his eyes sharp and his body rigid from the stressful situation at hand.   
He was a fierce, blood thirsty thing, his own ruler, and master of all monsters, powerful above all creatures but those high status demons who were ranked higher than him. He took no commands, and his pride was that of a coincided king. Who ever had brought him here, to what he assumed was not earth anymore, was unlikely to live when he got out.   
Prowling about the dark as death room, he found not a hint of anything that would be of use to him in his endeavor to find out where he was, or how to leave, and after frustration became a more plausible way to cope, he sprawled along the bed, to look less threatening when whomever came for him did choose to enter, so attack and escape could be as swift as possible. 

He was disturbed from his half conscious sleep when the door opened, and the smell of human came through, scared, fresh and young, if his senses were still working correctly. It was overwhelming, and he was tracking it in the dark before he could examine anything else.   
He slid off the bed and crept closer, the intent to eat a much needed meal the first thing on his mind, until his feet came to a stop, and through the darkness, he could feel the presence of a demon.   
The door closed behind the demon, and Leviathan stood, listening as the human, who was not moving much, was set on the bed, and then sobbed a pathetic cry, that neither of the higher creatures pay any mind to.   
“What is your name?” Came the voice of a man, or a demon in a man's body at least. It was strong, deep and stung like syrup on the way down the throat. It was close, not enough to touch, but maybe to graze with his fingers if he took a step left.   
“I do not answer to you, petty abomination.” Leviathan spat, his own rocky gravel voice spilling out with venom leaking from every word. Demons were unworthy, slimy things, no better than humans, and if this one thought he would play nice, he was wrong.  
In a moment, a hand wrapped around his throat, and hoisted him into the air with an inhuman ease that had Leviathan shocked, but not hurt, or impressed. It tightened, and he was walked to the door, slammed up against the back, and held in place.   
Leviathan only grinned, and pushed at the wrist to free himself, knowing no demon could hold him against his will. Leviathan was mighty, powerful, rightful king. He was everything demons were not.  
He pulled at the demons wrist, and when it did not budge, Leviathan could feel the slick slop of black that was his stomach drop, realizing that he was caught somehow. He tried again, but to no avail, and he could feel panic rising within him, something he had never felt in his long, long existence.   
The demon with the voice of syrup lent closer, his hot breath against the ear of Leviathan, and he bit at the skin underneath his earlobe. Leviathan squirmed and pushed, and almost rose to trying to bite this demons arms off when it whispered to him, “If you do not tell me your name, I will not leave the human here for you.”   
At this, Leviathan froze, and he weighed the possibilities in his mind. Honor aside, he was hungry, and it was not like a name was asking for much. He was getting the better end of the deal here, his name for a full meal, packaged, and not in the back of some alley. He could take his time here, dissect and save his favorites for last, cherish the screams, play with his food a little.   
Swallowing down his pride, he let his hands drop from the Demons wrist, and his eyes, the only part of him that was not a reflection of his dark sewage insides looked at a picture-less face. Crystal blue eyes gurgled out his name, with Demon nails around his neck.  
“Castiel.”

When the demon returned, it was to Castiel licking the last of the human down in hungry, erotic gulps around his fingers. The red that drizzled down his face made his blue eyes look maniac in the dim light the demon had cast along the walls, making shadows of long, looming furniture. He walked with confident stride, his black suit, tailored to perfection making him look almost godly in the large room.  
He knelt down to the Leviathan, his hand reaching out to touch the soft white cheek, stained red from the middle aged woman he had picked up off the streets somewhere in downtown Seattle. It was sadistic, the way the Demon smiled and licked a long stripe up Castiel's cheek, effectively rendering the blue eyed monster to go rigid in his touch, and to push away again, but without any real results.   
The demon grabbed him roughly by the upper arm and pulled him so he could bite roughly at Castiel's long pale neck, biting hard enough to leave purple bruises in his wake. With a burst of anger, Castiel sprung forward, his mouth jolting open and rows and rows of teeth showing as he went to bite down on the touchy Demon. Too much was too much, and no one treated the king of monsters like a common pet.  
Once again exhibiting his strength, the demon pushed Castiel from the side of his head hard to the carpet, hard enough to crack open a human skull, and to start a black trickle of goo down the temple of Castiel's head as he came back to. He grinned wickedly at the Demon and spat at him, black veins shooting up and over his face, under his skin for just a second.   
“Castiel, you fool.” The Demon cooed, almost sweetly, and stroked the side of Castiel's face not pushed up against the carpeting, “I'm sorry, but disobedience isn't cute unless I say it is.” He said, and reached into his coat, pulling out a needle.  
Castiel, who at this point, had never felt true pain, screeched like a banshee as the needles contents were shot straight into his side, burning, not like his black essence, but like human death, and his own rotting flesh. He arched up against the demons knees, kicking wildly and convulsing, not able to comprehend anything but the sting.  
By the time the pain had subsided, Castiel was alone in the room once again, only able to lye where he had been left, examining the difficulty of the situation. A demon, stronger than himself, with some knowledge as to what he was, and how to render him immobile with injections of something, something Castiel had never had to deal with.

The next time the demon came to see Castiel, he was dressed in a suit similar to the last, but this one was tinted red, and shone in the light of the dim room. He sat in the corner, in one of the chairs that was the same shade of off brown and blue that the bed spread was, and Castiel cautiously stood far as possible without being suspicious.   
He had spent what could have been days wondering who this Demon was, what he was planning by having Castiel here. He was clearly no low class demon, and definitely wasn't just binding Castiel's strength somehow, so how he so easily pinned the Leviathan was a mystery to him.   
“Castiel.” The Demon said, and Castiel looked up from where he sat on the floor, his blue eyes sharp with a hatred that he felt grow with every day, and a curiosity to rival. “Come here.”  
Castiel grimaced and backed farther from the demon, disgust written along his face, “Leave me alone, demon scum.”   
The demon sighed. He stood, and with a snap, the lights that had been so dull for so long, rose to a brightness that had Castiel covering his eyes. He frowned deeper than before and looked at the now clear image of the demon that held him captive. He was a tall man, with sandy brown hair and freckles along his cheeks, and a jaw that could break a mans nose. With every step, Castiel could see more and more, like his sharp eyes and stubbly cheeks.   
“You should watch how you talk to me, Castiel. It is still possible for you to be of use.” He purred, his voice rumbling as he sunk his fingers into Castiel's hair and pulled upwards, until Castiel was on his toes, and had his eyes pulled to an almost closed expression. The demon lent in further, his hard hands grabbing Castiel by the hip and laying him down so he was flat against the bed. “Rare as your kind is getting, there are still more to choose from. More...cooperative kittens. Unlike me, you're replaceable. And trust me doll, I'm a resourceful man, I can find ways to make you regret not pleasing me.”   
The Demons eyes flicked not black, but completely red. For a second, Castiel mistook it for crossroads red, but unfortunately, it was not, His demon eyes were the shade of red that could only be one thing, a knight of hell.  
A thousand thoughts ran through Castiel's mind, why him? Knight of hell? Weren’t they all dead? Did that mean he really was in hell? Wait, wasn't the last knight of hell still alive? Wasn't he...  
Castiel's cold black heart dropped in his empty chest, and The Demon-no-the knight of hell's grin just grew and grew with every passing second.  
“I take it you figured out who I am, huh doll?” he slurred, his red eyes staying pinned on Castiel, and his hand in his hair feeling tighter all of a sudden.   
Castiel spoke for himself this time, not having to be prompted, and with nothing but an undertone of fear in his voice. “Dean Winchester.” King of Hell.


	2. Substance

Despite the new information in his head, Castiel still resisted quite beautifully, snapping at Dean and calling him names to provoke the furious king, and every time being punished with doses of what he learned was borax. His resolve was strong, but with every passing day, it chipped away, and when he was nothing but black sludge being washed around in his own body by injections of chemicals, he was too desperate for food, for relief, for the fun he had been deprived of to care any more.  
He missed the hunt, the trickery and the hate. He craved the sun and the darkness of night, and lonely people in the park, just waiting to be gobbled up by a hungry monster. He missed power, and control, and nothing but sex and relaxation before he ate unsuspecting bed mates after fun nights at the club.   
So, when Dean came in the door and stood in all his glory, with a deep green suit and a needle or two tucked away in his pocket, Castiel climbed off the bed and sunk to the floor, with his ocean blue eyes pleading for something he could not yet say he desired from his master.  
Dean's eyes practically shimmered, and Castiel could see all his teeth as he went to sit down, and watched Castiel crawl on all fours to be between his legs. He didn't protest when Dean dragged him up by the chin, up so their faces were close enough to almost touch, and not a single thought of disobedience came to Castiel's mind, only the need to keep away Dean's wrath, and maybe to find that sweeter side Dean let slip out when Castiel was a little nicer than usual.  
Castiel didn't protest when Dean parted his lips and went about kissing him with an ardor that he didn't know the king could put forth. Castiel responded, his mouth letting Dean dominate, because that was how the king enjoyed it, and if Dean was happy then Castiel was...safe to say he got at least something out of it.  
Dean put forth so much affection, it seemed he was starved for it, and Castiel mewled under his fiery touch. His arms around Castiel's waist, his thick tree trunk legs between Castiel's, it was all so much. Dean didn't slow down for a second, all grinding and groaning into Castiel until they ended up with Castiel's back on the cushions of the seat, and their tongues slipping wet with saliva against each other, no goal but the intense feeling of Dean sucking bruises into every visible patch of skin.  
The king had a power almost visible, and Castiel arched, pleased under his strong praise of the body below him. If it weren't for how forceful Dean was, Castiel would have been able to imagine it was any other day, pleasing a stranger in bed, and then devouring them in the tiny motel room they had rented, maybe walk around with their skin on for a few days, but he always reverted back to what he was now, the image he had slowly created for himself.   
Dean pulled his arms forcefully above his head and raked his teeth along Castiel's inner arm. It was weird, how Dean was being so thorough, taking his time licking at every inch of silky skin. The foreplay was almost too long, and by the time Dean had his hands on Castiel's pants, the Leviathan was already boiling with anger.   
He didn't want to be some demons bitch, but if he had to be, he at least hoped it would be a quick fuck, and then a good day or so to himself. Dean pulled his pants off agonizingly slow, pulling his underwear down with them, and kissing carefully down strong, even tanned skin. He dropped them to the floor and sucked a red hickey into Castiel's inner thigh, dragging desperate soft pants of hot air from his mouth.  
Next, Dean pulled off his shirt, but not without using his strong, demon powered jaw to bite Castiel's jutting hip bones, and lick up the bit of black blood that surfaced on his right. Dean gently sucked it all up, and let his hands run free, down to Castiel's bare ass, squeezing and spreading his cheeks in test. Castiel, who could feel a tint of arousal in his stomach, lifted his legs to give Dean better access, but the Demon just snaked his hands away.  
All at once, Dean was up and bundling Castiel's clothes in his arms before casting a wicked smile and walking towards the door. Castiel laid, dizzied and confused, and a little hornier than usual, with his bare skin the only thing he had for himself.  
“Get dressed, I'll be back to pick you up in an hour for dinner.” Dean said, still holding Castiel's clothing. “Don't make me wait.”  
“With what clothing may I ask?” Castiel said, the venom in his voice back in full swing as he jolted up to sit and glare at his captor.   
Dean scoffed and snapped, making a pile of neatly folded clothing appear on the bed across the room, and Castiel rolled his eyes, not surprised by the small show of power at all.

Castiel was even less surprised to find the clothes that Dean had left him were barely clothes at all. Amongst them, there was a big sweater, long enough to go down to Castiel's knees and nothing else , all a pure white that made Castiel scoff. He found himself reasoning with his conscience, telling himself that resistance was futile, and he would rather not make Dean angry and risk copious amounts of Borax being injected into him like Dean had done when Castiel tried to kill him the second or third time.   
True to his word, Dean clicked the lock on the door open an hour later, and walked to Castiel, grinning at the fashion he had picked out ever so specially for the occasion. Dean reached to touch him, and Castiel gritted his teeth, feeling Deans cool fingers slide against his neck, and then they were replaced by soft, plush fur, and leather. Castiel's eyes widened as his own fingers met the outside of a collar. He looked up at Dean who just smiled his devious white toothed grin, and pulled him up with help of the new accessory.   
Castiel moved against Dean as the demon pulled him in to kiss him, something he didn't realize he had a habit of doing. When Dean kissed him, it was a battle, one that Castiel found himself enjoying. Despite what he had thought initially, the power that Dean held over him was a little intoxicating, and he craved it like a drug, though he would deny this new found lust to his dying breath.  
Dean clipped the end of a leash to the white collar, and tugged at the length a bit, pulling a red faced, dilated Castiel from his lips. Dean ran fingers through his soft hair, and kissed him once more softly, before pulling him out the door wordlessly,and down the hall, that Castiel had only ever seen on his way in.  
Leviathan tried the clutch of the leash, only to find it warded, and let out a soft puff of anger as Dean continued down the winding halls, until they came to a set of doors that looked grand, but dark.  
Dean pushed them open, holding Castiel's leash short in hand, and they walked together into a room with a black couch that wrapped around a large circular coffee table, with a zillion throw pillows and plates of food that Castiel could sense weren't of the traditional human sort.  
Besides him and Dean, there were four other in the room, a man with dark hair and soft blue eyes, who Castiel could immediately read as an Angel. Judging by the wings that spread from his back, and the long scepter he held in his hand, he was Michael, ruler of heaven in God's absence. Curled up against his side was a pretty little creature, a nephilim or a siren maybe, with eyes as blue as Castiels own, and a mess of blonde hair, with small red horns that barely peaked from under his hair.   
Sitting a little ways away, was another demon, and it was clear who he was just by the aura that surrounded him. Samuel, the boy king of hell, or more so the prince, and Deans younger brother. Castiel had long heard stories about the brothers, before he was captured, and the things they had done, the trouble they had created, and so to see the kings right hand man was not much of a shock.   
What was a shock, was to see another Leviathan, sitting in the boy kings lap, with his arms wrapped around his neck and gently lapping at his neck. The pride it once must have held, was no more, as it had devoted itself completely to Sam. The Leviathan had sandy golden hair, and looked a little short from his perch on the demons lap, which the demon seemed rather comfortable with, if the hands rubbing under the leviathans skimpy outfit were anything to say.  
Dean pulled Castiel to the couch, and sat down himself before snapping and pointing to the floor. Usually, Castiel would protest, but he got the feeling these were not the kind of people Dean would appreciate being undermined in front of.   
He carefully got down, and settled his cheek on Dean's knee, and closed his eyes as Dean's cool hands, that radiated power, pet him slowly.   
Across the room, Michael looked over his long time ally, the king of hell, and nodded his approval at the new pet Dean had brought along. They were men of class, this little group of theirs, and what better way to display dominance, and power over all other creation than to have a trained pet who's only concern was to be waited on, and to please no other than their master.  
It was a little unhealthy, of course, the amount of care that could grow for someone like that. Michael had owned his current pet for many millenia, and hoped to keep the thing for many more. Having a pet was so much more easy and suitable than courting a god or another ruler of course, and that was how he felt he preferred it. Lucifer, the little mutt that was currently cuddled up against his arm, was a mix from one of Sam's little creations. The male was the product of a fallen angel and some unnamed hell spawn, which had made Lucifer almost unmanageable until Michael had gotten through with him, and Lucifer quite enjoyed the bit of leeway he got to do whatever he wanted, and to help make some very important decisions with Michael as a master.   
Sam on the other hand, was very lenient on what Gabriel, his own Leviathan, got to do. As long as the troublesome little thing didn't drag the attention of any of their allies his way, and was home in time for a good afternoon fucking, he was free to do what he wanted. Gabriel ran around eating and binging on human food, and causing general mayhem until Sam teleported him home, if it was for a meal together, or because Sam wanted Gabe to ride him while he had a meeting with a client. Life was perfection for the little monster, and it was well known, touch the boy kings pet, and you were lucky if you just lost a few limbs.  
Newest to the string of pets was little Castiel, dressed up like a doll, and pet like a dog on the floor by the king. The privileged life that could be his was just around the corner, and he caught a glimpse of it as Dean pulled a tiny roll filled with some type of meat in it off the table. He lifted Castiel's chin with his finger and pressed the food into his mouth, which rose a soft moan and a shiver to run through Castiel. Castiel waited for that cocky smirk that he hated so, but it never came, for Dean was too busy starting up a conversation with Michael.   
Most of their words floated right past him in the midst of Dean hand feeding him and stroking his hands over his neck and chest,but he caught a few things,like human sacrifice,and mention of soul count as well.  
It was hours before Dean let him get up from his perch on the floor, and if it weren't for his species, his knees would be crying in pain. Dean pulled him up and into his lap, and Castiel protested only with a look of dismay smothered into Dean's shoulder. Dean ran a hand up Castiel's waist and puffed up a little with the pride he felt, his little pet finally learning his place and cuddling up to him like the submissive pet that he hoped to receive.  
Between discussion of power and new up and comers, Dean quite enjoyed pressing food into Castiel's mouth, and watching as the Leviathan took what he offered. The reluctance never truly faded, but Castiel hid his grimaces and frowns from Dean's guests, and for that he would be rewarded.  
When Michael announced his leave and rose from his seat, the mutation Lucifer rose with him and in a flurry of wings, they were gone, leaving Dean in the room with the Leviathans, and his brother.   
Sam looked to his brother with his own eyes flickering to demon black, and he pushed Gabriel off of himself with no effort. “I should be going too.” Sam said, his loud voice booming and making Castiel flinch in its power. “There are things that need to be attended to.”  
Dean nodded and offered a flick of red eyes to his brother, like a farewell, and Sam gave a curt nod before vanishing with the speed of an angel. Gabriel, sauntered out of the room with a dull look on his face, and went down the hall outside the door to God knows where.  
Castiel looked upwards then, to the king, and was met with his human eyes, a soft green that made him question Dean's wrath with the warmth that they radiated. His rough hand slid underneath the line of Castiel's jaw, and dragged him up and into Dean's lap, where the Leviathan stared blankly at the kings face, his blue eyes dull with submission.   
“You were very good Castiel. Almost perfect.” Dean says, and Castiel wants to growl, but he does not, because he is not in the mood to have his arm broken, or to go without food for a few days again. Dean continues talking, and Castiel listens, accepts the heat of the kings breath along his neck “I'm growing rather attached to you, my pet.” He whispered with poison leaking from his voice, and Castiel felt he knew what was coming, “Don't...disappoint me.”  
Castiel clenched his teeth as Dean slowly slipped the sweater up the front of his chest, and stripped him down, careful only to show a neutral expression, not wanting to show how he really felt about the activity. Slave or not, Castiel fed off of sin, and it had been much too long since he had received a good lay.  
Dean was by no means unattractive, and despite being forcibly kept here by the demon, he was quite the turn on. Castiel rolled against him, Dean's arms holding him away keeping him from tempting the king, and maybe getting something out of it.  
Castiel reached for Deans tie, expecting to be swatted away, but Dean only kept his hands on Castiel's waist and let the leviathan undo his tie, and then pull the suit down his shoulders, to his elbows, and then Dean lifted his hands from Castiel for just a moment so the coat could be tossed aside. Castiel worked down the buttons of the white dress shirt Dean had underneath, and leaned down to worship his neck with soft kitten licks.   
“That is enough.” Dean says, and Castiel is shocked by the sudden steady tone coming from above, just by his ear. He looks at Dean, confused, and frowns a little at the lack of foreplay, but if Dean wants to get down to it, who is Castiel to stop him?  
In one swift movement, Dean stands up and drops Castiel back onto the pillows of the couch, and Castiel can feel his cold heart beat in anticipation. He lays back, fully ready to give into Dean, but is met with nothing.   
Dean snaps, and the suit is fully assembled back on his body. Castiel scrambles to sit up and looks up at Dean, offense written all over his face. “Again with your teasing! What was all that about not disappointing you?!” He clutches the couch cushions, his blue eyes glaring with anger at the demon king.  
“Don't raise your voice, I don't want to have to punish you before tomorrow.” Dean says, level headed as usual, and Castiel pauses, his anger melting away in the blink of an eye.   
“Why? What is tomorrow?” He says with no trace of his previous anger in his voice. He wants to stand up, but that will probably just provoke Dean, and he will not get his answer, or worse, be punished.  
Dean turns to him again, and runs his fingers through the mop of dark hair on Castiel's head. It is a warm gesture, unlike Dean, and Castiel is stunned by it, but not undeterred, “Dean?”  
He flinches at the name, but does not make a move to reprimand the leviathan. “Tomorrow, there will be many demons here, looking to see if there are any weaknesses in my monarchy. It is my job to make sure they see me as the carrier of the mark, and as a flawless king.”  
Castiel just nods, and Dean continues to stroke through his hair, “Tomorrow, you will be perfect. You will obey every order, and grovel, though I know it is not your nature to do so. Please do as I say, or I will have to kill you in front of them.”  
At This, Castiel's head snaps up, looking at Dean like he has just been hit by a surprisingly affective punch. Dean is still not looking at him, but the petting continues Dean looks almost sad as he says the words, the emotion does not fit him Castiel thinks. “Be good for me Castiel, and in time, I will be good to you.”  
There is a minute where Dean stops, and they both just stand, frozen in time, and then Castiel reaches up, and rests a hand over Dean's own, and for some reason, he does not feel trapped, he feels this is right, and this is where he is supposed to be. Deans green eyes meet his own, and as if for the first time, Dean presses a kiss to his lips, soft like worn leather, and sunny afternoons.  
Dean is gone, far from his reach, and when the king is no longer in the room, Castiel feels the black goo inside his body seep back in, and the cold of its tendrils is disturbing.


End file.
